Deductions
by Mayle
Summary: Sherlock's new roommate is John Watson. He finds himself intrigued by the newcomer. Both bewildered and excited, he resolves to discover all there is to discover about the blonde.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock shook the new kid, trying to wake him from his nightmare. The blonde whimpered and clutched at his sheets. Sherlock considered dousing him in cold water, but he figured that'd just make it worse. Instead, he shook harder and patted the boy's cheek.

"Come on…John? It's John isn't it?" Sherlock called to the thrashing boy, "Wake up now! Come on!"

The boy suddenly sat straight up the in air, bumping against Sherlock.

"S-s-sorry," he stuttered.

"It's ok, you were having a nightmare," Sherlock stated, "I was just trying to wake you up."

"Th-thanks," John answered, shakily.

"Your name _is _John, isn't it?" Sherlock questioned, "There were three new students, but based on what I can deduce from you, you must be John Watson. A Scotsman, yes? I didn't realize they were going to put you in this room. Oh, and your alcoholic brother has been texting you quite a while now."

John gaped up at him and then scrambled for his phone.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered as he fumbled in the dark for it.

"I have it," Sherlock said, watching in amusement, "Your phone, I have it."

"Oh, thank god! I thought I'd lost it!" John reached out a hand in the dark.

Sherlock hissed and backed away from the hand, dropping the phone in it. John's face lit up as he unlocked the phone and scrolled through his messages. His face rapidly fell as he read through them. Sherlock observed all this and tucked it away in his mind palace in a corner that was now dedicated to his new roommate. John typed a small message in reply, before dropping his phone in his lap and burying his face in his hands. Sherlock tilted his head; absorbing every signal that John was giving off.

"Is something wrong?" Sherlock questioned.

John jumped slightly, apparently having forgotten that Sherlock was there.

"Yeah, no," John shook his head, "Just Harry being Harry."

"He has tried several times to quit," Sherlock stated, "Doesn't seem to be working for him. Especially with this recent split. Were they engaged? It seems that they were. A few years maybe?"

"How did you know that?" John asked in wonder.

"What? Oh, right," Sherlock shrugged, "Your phone says "To Harry from Clara" very serious gift for just dating, hence engaged, perhaps actually wedded? But he gave the phone to you, which means they broke it off and he doesn't wish to keep a gift from his ex. You're recently home from boarding school, then? That's why you needed a phone. Did your family lose money or did you just miss them?"

John blinked and then his face brightened into a huge grin that caused Sherlock to blink several times, as though adjusting to the light after being in the dark.

"You're brilliant!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Sherlock questioned in confusion.

"I said you're brilliant!" John restated, glowingly.

"Ah, oh, um, thank you," Sherlock said, uneasily.

Sherlock shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the praise. His intention had been to clearly show John Watson what he was from the beginning instead of hiding like he normally did. Usually that just ended in pain and misery. He wasn't prepared for John to _like _his deductions.

"You got something wrong though," John inserted in Sherlock's thought train.

"What?" Sherlock snapped, "What did I get wrong?"

"Harry is short for Harriet," John answered.

"A sister…ah, that explains…" Sherlock blushed and turned away.

"Explains what?" John questioned.

"Just the awkward questions she was asking," Sherlock said, "I thought it was strange for a brother to ask such things. _My _brother never asked me, um, about sexual things, anyway. Of course, we aren't traditional brothers."

"I wouldn't know, really," John shrugged, "I've just got Harry. Sometimes she's like an older brother, but most of the time she's like an annoying best friend."

"Are you uncomfortable with her questions about homosexuality?" Sherlock questioned.

John choked slightly, blushing.

"No, I've gotten used to it," John answered.

"So have you had anal sex, as she asked?" Sherlock inquired.

"Quite curious, aren't you?" John retorted.

"Sorry, I require copious amounts of information about people," Sherlock answered, "So you have. Was it enjoyable? Would you do it again?"

"Partially, and yes," John answered calmly.

"Did you receive or give?"

"Received."

"Have you done it only once?"

"Yes."

"Were you in a relationship with that person?"

"No, it was a midnight fumble."

"Do you still communicate with him?"

"No, he gave me a fake number."

"Do you wish you could?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

"He hurt me. There's no point."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Ha. No. we've just been talking about how I enjoy anal sex."

"You could be bisexual. Are you?"

"No. Straight as pink circle, I'm afraid."

"Are you attracted to me?"

"Yes."

"Do you think other homosexual men are attracted to me?"

"Definitely."

"Do you think you are attractive to homosexual men?"

"I don't know. Do _you_ think I'm attractive?"

Sherlock faltered for a moment.

"Yes. Would you have sex with me?"

"Once we got to know each other better."

"You wouldn't have sex with me right now?"

"No."

"Why?"

"First of all, I'm not like that. Secondly, even if I was like that we're roommates. That'd be just outright awkward. And who knows, you may decide I'm some sort of psychopath."

"I assure you, it would be the other way around."

"Do many people think that?"

"Yes."

"Is it true?"

"No, I'm a high-functioning sociopath."

"That means…no emotions right?"

"Right."

"Liar."

Sherlock looked at him in shock. John was scowling at him.

"You've got them. You're just trying to suppress them. You think you're safer that way."

Sherlock felt a shock go through him as he thought, _he just…he just deduced me!_

"You're wrong, by the way. Suppressing feelings just makes it worse."

Sherlock gaped at the blonde for several moments. John grinned up at him and wiggled back down under his sheets. Sherlock stood there, waiting for a long time. John sighed and looked up at him.

"Don't like it when people do it to you, do you?" John said with a smirk.

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted, "This is the first time it's happened."

John laughed and the sound tickled Sherlock's ears and heart. He frowned at that sensation.

"Go to sleep," John instructed in a bemused voice, "Oh, by the way, what's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock answered, as he shuffled back over to his bed.

John snorted.

"Parents thought they were funny then?" John questioned.

"Thought they were hilarious," Sherlock responded, lying down on his bed, "My brother's name is Mycroft."

John laughed again and snuggled into his pillow. Sherlock watched him sleep for a few moments. He processed through the plethora of information that John had presented him with. _Who is this boy?..._he wondered briefly as he drifted into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock batted at the hand that shook him.

"Go 'way Mycroft!" he muttered, "I'm still tired!"

"I'm afraid it doesn't matter too much. We have class, Sherlock."

Sherlock jerked awake at the voice. He looked up, blinking rapidly. John Watson, the bleary-eyed, mused hair boy from last night was standing above him, clean and dressed in a crisp uniform. The boy's bright blue eyes looked down at him in some emotion Sherlock couldn't read. He still wasn't the greatest at reading emotions. The sun peeked through the curtains, dancing across the boy's blonde hair. Sherlock felt a lump in his throat.

"We have to go to class," John repeated, "You need to get up now."

Sherlock scowled at him and hefted himself up off the bed. John backed up and crossed his arms. Sherlock looked down at him and noted the cute little scowl he'd gotten on his face. Sherlock blushed at thinking it was cute and pushed that thought away.

"What's wrong, John?" Sherlock questioned.

"Of course you're ludicrously tall!" John burst out, "It's bad enough that I'm shorter than a normal sized boy! Ugh. I'll look even shorter now!"

Sherlock looked down at John, noting that he was in fact at least a head taller than the other boy. The top of John's head just barely didn't reach his shoulder. Sherlock laughed loudly and ruffled the other boy's hair. John frowned at him and reached up to smooth his hair back out. Sherlock just shook his head and started for the bathroom.

"Oh, hey, Sherlock!" John called, as Sherlock stepped onto the linoleum floor.

"Yes, John?" Sherlock called back.

"Are you gay too?" John questioned.

Sherlock jumped at the question, not quite expecting it.

"Uh. Yeah," Sherlock called, "Girls aren't really my area."

John's laugh floated through the open doorway and straight into Sherlock's ears. It made Sherlock shiver and hug his arms around him.

"I know that feeling," John replied, "I tried asking Harry for advice, but it just never worked. They're so…I don't know. Squishy?"

Sherlock laughed slightly and closed the door. Then he heard John yelp from behind it and swung it back open. John was standing there, blushing and shaking slightly, looking at another boy, who had apparently just walked in.

"I'm sorry! You startled me!" John said in an uneven voice.

Sherlock frowned as he realized it was Lestrade.

"It's ok, I should've knocked," Lestrade said gently, "Usually it's just Sherlock so I don't worry about it. Sorry about that. I'm Greg. Greg Lestrade."

Sherlock's frown deepened as Lestrade held out a hand and John accepted it.

"I'm John Watson," John supplied brightly.

Sherlock frowned at the grinning boy, wondering what this gnawing feeling in his stomach was. Lestrade turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow at the angry look his was giving him.

"What do you want, Lestrade?" Sherlock snapped.

"Well, there's this problem, you see someone's been-," Lestrade started, but Sherlock cut him off.

"It's Howard Jacklov," Sherlock answered, stepping back in the bathroom and slamming the door.

He pressed his ear to the door, wondering if Lestrade would stay and talk to John.

"Is he always like that?" John questioned.

"To me he is," Lestrade answered.

"Oh, cuz he was really nice last night," John replied, "Well, sort of."

"Oh, yeah?" Lestrade said in an amused voice, "Anyway, you want to go down to breakfast with me?"

There was a pause, where Sherlock imagined John blushing profusely. It made a feral snarl rise up in his throat. He wasn't sure why, but he reopened the door and strode out to stand between Lestrade and John.

"Leave!" he barked.

"Sherlock, I was just trying to-," Lestrade began, but Sherlock cut him off again.

"I said leave! Or shall I tell the rest of the rugby team you're flirting with the pretty new student who's a _guy?_" Sherlock snapped viciously.

"Sherlock, I wasn't-," Lestrade started again, putting his hands up in a defensive manner.

"GO NOW LESTRADE!" Sherlock interrupted.

Lestrade sighed and backed out the door. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sherlock slammed the door, snarling. He turned to storm back into the bathroom, but John's hand snapped out and snatched his wrist. Sherlock turned, his face softening.

"You think I'm pretty?" John said in a sweet, soft voice.

Sherlock melted right there. _Oh god, he's too adorable, _he thought, his lips tugging up in a soft smile.

"Yeah, I said that last night, didn't I?" Sherlock answered.

"Oh, right," John mumbled, blushing, "I just thought maybe…I don't know. Thank you."

Sherlock felt a warm spark hit his heart as John said the words.

"You're welcome," Sherlock answered in a whisper.

John looked down at where his hand joined Sherlock's wrist and then slowly released it. Sherlock hesitated before turning and going into the bathroom. He ignored the shaky feeling in his legs. He ignored his thundering heart. He ignored his raggedy breath. He tried to ignore what all this added up to be. He tried to ignore that he had a _crush._

* * *

"He's very defensive of him," Greg said, "He practically ripped my head off for suggesting we go down to breakfast together."

"Interesting," Mycroft answered, "And he just met him last night?"

"Yeah, and according to John he was nice to him," Greg replied, "I didn't even know that he could be nice."

"Clearly he sees something in this John Watson," Mycroft responded, looking at his watch, "I must go now. I'll see you tonight."

He turned to leave, but Greg grabbed his arm.

"No kiss?" he said in a pleading voice.

Mycroft smiled and leaned down to plant a swift, chaste kiss on Greg's lips. Greg pressed back, clearly wanting to prolong it, but Mycroft pulled away.

"You'll get in trouble with your team," Mycroft whispered.

Greg frowned at him.

"Maybe I don't care," Greg said defensively.

"Well, I do," Mycroft answered, "They would hurt you."

Greg sighed in defeat and Mycroft pecked him on the cheek before leaving.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock found himself completely absorbed in John Watson's eating process. He watched as John cut off a bit of waffle and stabbed it with his fork. Then he'd bring it up to his mouth and put it in his mouth, scraping the bit of waffle off with his teeth. There was often a metallic zinging noise when he did this. As he chewed, he'd rest one hand on the table and the hand with the fork would rest near his plate, the fork hovering over it. Sometimes John looked around as he chewed the bite, but often he stared at his plate.

"Do you not get to observe normal people so close very often?"

John's voice snapped Sherlock out of his processing of the new information. He looked down at John's eyes that were dressed in an amused expression. His lips quirked up on one side and his left eyebrow was lifted up past his right. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Uh, sorry," Sherlock muttered, "I've never sat this close to someone while they ate."

John's right eyebrow joined his left one and the quirk in his lips disappeared.

"Not even at home?" John questioned in surprise.

"Especially not at home," Sherlock mumbled.

John's eyebrows came down and his eyes softened tremendously. He reached out a hand and softly placed it on Sherlock's.

"I'm sorry," John whispered.

Sherlock was shocked by the sudden sentiment.

"It's ok," he assured John, "My family just likes to avoid each other."

"Oh, Sherlock, that's not ok," John said sadly.

Sherlock's heart was in his throat and he wanted desperately to make the sadness in John's eyes go away. Some urge inside him reared his head like a lion and he swooped down and planted a chaste kiss on John's lips. He relished in John's gasp of surprise. He pulled his face away and twisted his hand in John's. He squeezed John's hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's ok, really," Sherlock whispered.

He let go of John's hand and turned to his cup of tea. John made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and Sherlock turned back to him.

"Is that really all you're having?" John demanded, "That's not good for you. You need to eat."

"Then let me have some of your waffles," Sherlock answered.

"Fine," John stated, pushing the plate over to Sherlock.

Sherlock pushed it back and took up John's hand putting it on top of the fork. Then he leaned forward and popped his mouth open. John blushed a wonderful shade of pink and Sherlock's heart thudded hard against his chest. _I'm flirting, oh my lord! I am flirting with John right now! Oh my god! _His thoughts spewed out.

John cut off a bit of waffle and lifted it to Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock watched John's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. He put his mouth around the waffles and mimicked John's way of eating, complete with the metallic zinging noise. John pulled the fork away and a bit of syrup dripped down the corner of Sherlock's mouth. _Bit messier than I thought it would be, _Sherlock observed as he tongued at the syrup. He looked back at John who seemed to be watching his every move.

"There you go, you ate," John said bluntly.

Then he turned and began eating the rest of his waffles. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. His flirting made John uncomfortable. He wondered how uncomfortable. He took ahold of John's wrist and counted the beats of his pulse. _Elevated heart rate, _Sherlock thought, his smirk deepening. John looked at him with one eyebrow raised. Sherlock just smiled brightly at him and let go of his wrist. John rolled his eyes and continued eating.

Sherlock watched in a content mood, occasionally taking a sip from his cup of tea. John didn't seem to mind too much as he didn't say anything. But he did notice or else that blush on his face was for a different reason. Sherlock decided he found it quite amusing to flirt. He was quickly processing through the emotions that came from flirting with John. It wasn't easy to understand, but it was easier when he remembered all the chemicals involved.

"Sherlock, are you going to admire my good looks all day?" John questioned, "Or shall we go to class?"

"I think we shall do both," Sherlock answered, grinning wickedly.

John blushed and shook his head. He stood up, picking up his plate and looking around for the trash. Sherlock swiftly stood and took the plate.

"Allow me," he said, bowing briefly.

John's blush deepened and he rolled his eyes. Sherlock swept across the room to the trash. Then he practically sprinted back to John who was waiting with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked gently.

"Nothing," John muttered.

"Tell me," Sherlock pressed.

"You're just…interesting," John said, looking away.

"Is that good or bad?" Sherlock asked, cocking his head to the right.

"I don't know," John shrugged, dropping his arms, "Maybe both."

"I hope it's good," Sherlock said, "Because I like you. And I don't like very many people. Um, I really don't like anyone, actually, except for the literature teacher, Mrs. Hudson."

"Um, Ok," John mumbled, "Don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything, John," Sherlock said brightly, "But we are friends, aren't we?"

"Er. Yes, we are," John answered.

"Good!" Sherlock shouted, clapping his hands together.

He swooped down and planted a kiss on John's cheek before starting towards the door of the cafeteria.

"Come along, John," he called over his shoulder, "The game is on!"

Sherlock stepped lightly, with a happy spring. He was even happier when John drew up next to him, struggling to keep up. Sherlock's grin was so bright he was sure that it could be seen from miles away. His grin faltered slightly as he saw Andersen talking to Lestrade. Andersen turned his head and saw him. He sneered at Sherlock and Sherlock frowned back at him.

"What have you got there, freak?" Andersen called, "Going to try to get the dumb little new kid to like you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to snap out an embarrassing deduction when John stepped in front of him. His fists were clenched at his sides and even though he was short, he gave off an intimidating vibe.

"Do not call him a freak," he said in a low, even voice.

Sherlock shivered at the dangerous tone of John's voice. Andersen's sneer faltered for a moment, but then it came back full force.

"Oh, you haven't been told yet, have you?" Andersen snickered, "Sherlock there is a psychopath."

Sherlock opened his mouth to correct Andersen, but was cut off by John once again.

"He isn't a psychopath!" John shouted, "He's a high functioning sociopath! Do your research before you go mouthing off about things you don't understand!"

With that, John took ahold of Sherlock's arm and dragged him away. Sherlock's heart was pounding hard in his chest as though it wanted to break free and fall into John's hand and stay there forever. No one had ever defended him before. For the most part no one even talked to him. Andersen just found it amusing to make fun of him and Lestrade often needed help with things getting stolen. But here was John Watson, dragging him away, looking more furious than he was. John Watson protected him. John Watson liked him. It was a new sensation for Sherlock to feel like someone liked him. It brought his grin back to his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock's first week with John passed with little incident. He was able to observe him without John getting angry and every time Sherlock made a deduction John would burst into a huge grin and call him brilliant. The worst thing that happened was when John's pencil fell off his desk. He'd come around and bent down right in front of Sherlock. Sherlock's collar and pants tightened as John's wonderfully plump arse wiggled around in front of him. Sherlock cleared his throat as John straightened out and turned to sit back down.

"Like what you see?" John whispered huskily, as he passed.

"God, yes," Sherlock hissed at him.

John smirked at him and plopped down in his seat.

"Definitely the worst part of the week," Sherlock commented as he recalled it.

"What was?" John questioned from his side of the room.

Sherlock looked over to see John sprawled out on his side looking at Sherlock expectantly.

"When you wiggled your rear end in my face," Sherlock answered truthfully.

"I think you mean best part of the week," John replied in a haughty voice.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him. John tried to catch it but it just smacked him in the face causing "Oof!" to push out his mouth. He cast a wicked grin in Sherlock's direction. Fear and excitement gripped at Sherlock's insides as John lifted himself up.

"You asked for it now, twat," John said in a low voice that sent shivers up and down Sherlock's spine.

John launched the pillow and it hit Sherlock full force in the face (he was distracted…). Sherlock fell back, sputtering as John belted out manic laughter. Sherlock hoisted himself up just as John's feet steadied on the floor. John was looking at him with bright eyes and that wicked grin. _Oh shit, _Sherlock thought as John crept forward, clutching a pillow in a defensive position.

"I was on a Rugby team, Sherlock," John said breathlessly, "This is not your lucky day."

Sherlock was beginning to wonder if this had been the best idea when John pounced on him. Sherlock went sputtering again as the pillow hit his stomach. He sat back on his bed hard and John pushed him back. Then he was quite suddenly pinned as John slid onto his lap and pressed his shoulders down. Sherlock noted the sudden change of mood as John leaned down. He noted that John's breath was coming out in pants and his eyes were slightly dilated.

"Sherlock, you are an infuriating person," John said breathlessly.

Sherlock frowned, not quite expecting that.

"You leave experiments all over the room," John said, his hands pressing harder into Sherlock's shoulders, "You deduce me even when I don't want to be. You stare at me all day. You hardly ever eat or sleep. You play the violin at all hours of the night. And the worst thing is, you claim I wiggle my ass in front of you and that it was the worst thing, when that's all you do. Every time I look at you you're in some suggestive position. You do it on purpose, don't you?"

Sherlock debated on whether he should tell the truth. The truth wasn't exactly pretty, as he had indeed been trying to seduce John. He looked up at the other boy's bright blue eyes and saw very little anger. It looked more like irritation, really. The emotion he most saw filling John's face was lust. He wasn't even sure that that could technically be considered an emotion.

"Yes," Sherlock finally answered.

"Thought so," John replied curtly.

He slid off Sherlock and grabbed up his pillow, returning to his half of the room. Sherlock laid there stunned for a few moments before lifting up on his elbows. John had wiggled under his sheets and Sherlock let out a frustrated growl.

"That's it?" Sherlock demanded.

John looked over at him and blinked.

"I believe I told you already," John said in a tired voice, "I don't do one night stands."

Sherlock frowned, unsure of what had happened. He hated when he was unsure. He let out another growl and leapt up from the bed. He grabbed his coat and donned it on in a hurry to get out as soon as possible. His hand was on the doorknob when John called out to him.

"Where are you going?" John questioned.

"Away from you, you prick," Sherlock spat over his shoulder.

Sherlock turned the doorknob but something crushed him against the door. John's body, though shorter than his, was strong. John shifted behind him, standing on his tip-toes. Sherlock shivered as John's breath ghosted over his ear.

"I don't think refusing to have sex with you makes me a prick," he stated, "But if you insist."

Sherlock was spun around and slammed against the door again. He breathed heavy as John stretched up and pressed his lips to his own. They were softer than Sherlock had imagined them, but John was rougher. He pinned Sherlock's wrists to the door and shoved a knee between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock gasped and shuddered as John's leg grinded against the significant bulge in his pants. He hardly realized that John's lips were on his neck, he was only vaguely aware of their wet presence.

Sherlock grunted as John's leg sped up against him. Sherlock would later be completely ashamed of himself, but in that moment he could care less. He felt he was floating, but anchored by John's hands pressed tightly to his wrists. There was nothing in his brain as John's leg created the exact amount of friction that was needed. His mind was filled with white, fluffy clouds and there was nothing he could do as his whole body tightened. He tried to gasp out something, anything, but all he could do was moan as the end was near. He screamed as hot spurts came out of him. Light blinded his vision and he saw spots. He couldn't breathe as his body rocked with the waves. He slumped against John, who released his wrists and grabbed him around the middle.

"Sexually frustrated, much?" John questioned in an amused voice.

"I gah loo haa," Sherlock blubbered into John's ear.

"Jesus, you are torn apart," John muttered as he backed away from the door.

He dragged Sherlock over to his side and gently tried to lay him down. It didn't work very well, as Sherlock was a floppy fish. Instead of gently laying him out, he managed to basically throw Sherlock on the bed. He hefted a huge sigh and muttered something. Sherlock whimpered as John walked away, his vision blackening. It was a completely calm sleep he had, no dreams, no nightmares. In the morning there would be awkwardness and a thousand questions, but he had no thoughts at all as he drifted into the land of sleep.

* * *

**Little note: I have no idea what I'm doing any more...Hope you like it anyway! Love you all!**


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock wondered if he'd dreamed it. Everything was as normal as it always was with him and John. Though, considering he only had a week to reference what was normal, his conclusion may have been false. However, based on that week he'd had, everything was normal. John shook him awake the same as always, telling him they had to get up. He'd blinked owlishly up at John the same as normal. The only significant difference was that John wasn't wearing his uniform. Instead, he was wearing an adorable striped jumper that made Sherlock feel gooey inside.

"Why are you wearing that?" he asked as he sat up.

"Don't be dull," John said in his best Sherlock impersonation.

Sherlock looked at him blankly.

"Seriously?" John questioned.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow expectantly and John sighed.

"It's Saturday," John finally answered.

"Oh, shit!" Sherlock yelped as he flung his covers back and hurriedly jumped out of bed.

Sherlock practically sprinted around gathering his clothes and ran into the bathroom.

"What's wrong?" John called to him.

Sherlock poked his head out of the door.

"I don't know how to tell you this, John," Sherlock said nervously, "But my brother's coming."

John blinked at him.

"Why does that have you running about like a crazy person?" John questioned.

"We sort of have this rivalry," Sherlock explained, "And he likes to come invade my personal space. Though, why he doesn't just take what Lestrade tells him, I don't know. He's a prat."

"Ok…" John trailed off.

"Nothing to worry about," Sherlock assured him, "But he's like me….um. He's going to deduce you. A lot. A bit more than I do."

"More than you?" John questioned incredulously.

"Yes," Sherlock replied curtly, "Now, if you don't mind, I really need to wash the come off me before he busts in here and finds out."

John blushed and looked and he took that to mean he was free to take a shower. He tried to scrub himself down as fast as he could without making it look like he had. He really didn't want to embarrass John any more than Mycroft was going to when he got there.

"Though, John seems like he could handle it," Sherlock murmured, as he stepped out of the shower.

As he dried off, he heard voices in the other room.

"Crap," he muttered.

He quickly dried himself and donned on his clothes. He straightened himself up and went out ready for his verbal battle with Mycroft. As he came out of the bathroom the first thing he noticed was John sitting with his knees at his chest on Sherlock's bed. _God, he is adorable, _Sherlock thought, a small smile playing at his lips, _completely different than the guy he was last night…hmm. _His brow furrowed as he thought about that. John looked up at him with those huge blue eyes and smiled. Sherlock's heart melted and he just wanted to scoop the other boy up and hold him forever.

"John was just telling me about your first meeting," Mycroft's slimy voice drew his attention away from John's adorableness, "He said you acted like a civilized human being."

"I doubt he said that," Sherlock snapped, "John wouldn't be so rude."

Mycroft smirked at him and Sherlock had the urge to punch him in the face. Mycroft was sitting in John's desk chair (he knew it wasn't his because his was burned badly). He noticed that Lestrade was standing behind Mycroft.

"Oh, really?" Sherlock demanded, "This is what we're reduced to? I'm clean! How many times do I have to say that?"

"Maybe I just don't believe you," Mycroft said in response.

Sherlock snorted.

"It's just an excuse to invade my privacy," Sherlock scoffed.

"What is?" John asked tentatively.

Sherlock's eyes snapped to John who was looking up at him with a confused look.

"He wants to search our room," Sherlock answered.

"For what?" John questioned, looking more confused than ever.

"Drugs," Lestrade spoke up.

Sherlock cast a glare in his direction as John jumped up from Sherlock's bed.

"Don't be stupid!" John shouted, "Sherlock would never!"

"John," Sherlock started to warn him.

"There's no way!" John continued.

"_John_," Sherlock insisted.

"You must be crazy!" John said unrelenting.

"John!" Sherlock barked.

John looked over at him, outrage still evident in his face. Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him. John's mouth popped open.

"What, really? No way!" John sputtered.

"Just be quiet," Sherlock said firmly.

John closed his mouth, but Sherlock could see a million questions in his eyes.

"We'll leave you to your absurdity," Sherlock threw at Mycroft.

He took a hold of John's arm and carted him out of the room and down the hall. John was silent as Sherlock guided him to the library. He weaved through the bookshelves until they reached the furthest and most private corner. He let go of John's arm and turned to face.

"Ok, go ahead and ask," Sherlock stated.

Sherlock couldn't help but squeeze his eyes closed as he waited for the stream of questions. But what he got was anything but.

"Is your brother always so creepy?" John's voice whispered.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he looked at John whose nose was wrinkled. He felt as though his heart had stopped beating. Everything stopped suddenly. His brain just stopped. It was foggy and disorienting, but also somehow very clear. He could see every detail of John's face and body, but nothing was noted and no deductions were made. He just saw him. Very suddenly, the crush he was denying he had became the most important thing in the world. Or rather, John became the most important thing in the world. He couldn't even think of why that was and he hardly wanted to.

"Because seriously, he just gives me th-."

Sherlock silenced him by forcefully smashing their lips together. It lasted about two seconds, but it felt like a day had passed to Sherlock. He pulled himself from John, breathing heavy and readying himself to pounce on the shorter boy again. He looked at John waiting for some sort of reaction.

"Are you going to answer my question?" John asked.

"Never," Sherlock answered, bringing his face down to meet John's again.

John didn't protest at all. Sherlock was immensely grateful for it as he backed John into a bookcase and eagerly nipped at the shorter boy's lips. John's arms snaked around Sherlock's neck as he returned Sherlock's kiss, though more softly than before. Sherlock didn't think about what was happening. He didn't think about anything. His mind went to fluff again as he hoisted John up by his arse and John wrapped his legs around his waist. John was very light, but Sherlock hardly registered it as he stuck his tongue in the blonde's mouth.

"Sherlock, PDA is actually against the rules," Lestrade's voice drifted into his ear.

John pulled his head back and looked to Sherlock's right. Sherlock also looked to see that Lestrade was actually there. With his brother. He growled at them, but they didn't budge. He turned back to John who was blushing and trying to hide his face in Sherlock's shoulder. he turned back to Lestrade and Mycroft.

"Done then?" he managed to say coolly.

"Indeed," Mycroft answered, "Completely clean."

"Don't sound so disappointed, dearest brother," Sherlock spat at him.

Mycroft merely smiled in that slimy, condescending way he did and turned to leave. Lestrade looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Once they'd gone Sherlock turned his head back to John, who was peeking out to see if they were gone yet. _God, he's adorable, _Sherlock thought as John sheepishly lifted his head.

"So…should we go back to our room?" John questioned, a blush creeping onto his face.

"Definitely," Sherlock answered, pushing back from the bookcase.

* * *

**Little note: There ya go. Happy family stuff...not really. Silly Holmeses. Love you all!**


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock felt a heavy weight pressed down on him and he jerked fully awake. It took him several disorienting moments to realize that John had lain down on top of him.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock muttered, still half-asleep.

"Can't sleep," John whispered, "Entertain me."

Sherlock snorted and buried his face in his pillow. He was about to fall back asleep when his head was jerked up by his hair. He let out a strangled yelp and jerked in surprise.

"Fuck!" he screeched, "What the fucking fuck fuck fuck!"

John laughed behind him and let go of his hair.

"Awake now?" he said, amusement evident in his voice.

"Who the hell are you?" Sherlock demanded, rubbing at his scalp.

"John Hamish Watson!" John answered brightly, "Nice to meet ya!"

He leaned down and crossed his arms, laying his head on his bent elbow. Sherlock turned his head and laid it so he could see John, though the darkness prevented him from really seeing the blonde.

"So Sherlock…" John started and Sherlock could almost hear the mischievous glint in those bright blue eyes, "I have this set of handcuffs and I was-."

Sherlock leapt up, throwing John off of him and ran from the room. He sprinted down the hall as fast as he could.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" Sherlock sputtered as he ran, "Fuckshitballstitsassfuckedywhatthemotherjesusfuck stick!"

"My, what language," a clear, cool voice called out.

Sherlock practically skidded to a halt, but he had on socks so he ended up sliding and falling over himself. After untangling his limbs, he stood and shakily looked for the voice. The voice came from a collected body that was leaning casually against a doorframe and turning an apple over in his hands. Sherlock felt like vomiting on the other boy's expensive shoes.

"What the fuck do you want?" Sherlock demanded, straightening himself up.

The boy looked up from the apple with feigned innocence, his cold brown eyes going wide.

"Sherlock is that anyway to talk to an old friend?" the boy whined, "I'm just here to help you."

"Quit lying to me, asshole," Sherlock snapped, "What do you want?"

The fake innocence dropped and the boy smirked at Sherlock.

"The questioned is what do _you _want?" the boy's lips curled up in a Grinch like smile as he said the words.

Sherlock shivered and his right hand came up to grip the crook of his left elbow.

"I don't do that anymore," Sherlock stated, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, Sherlock," the boy scoffed, "Addicts never really quit."

"I'm not an addict," Sherlock snapped.

"Will you ever stop lying Sherlock?" the boy tilted his head to the right, "Or will I always have to be here to remind you of your true self?"

"You know nothing about me!" Sherlock shouted, "All you know is what you want me to be! I'm not that person, _Moriarty. _I am not that character you made me!"

"Oh, really?" Moriarty said, amusement fading from his voice, "So then what are you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He closed his mouth and lowered his head, his hand gripping tighter to him arm.

"I don't know for sure," Sherlock admitted in a whisper, "But I'm not you."

"Why are you suddenly so emotional?" Moriarty questioned, disgust evident in his voice, "Is it that cute new roommate of yours?"

Sherlock's face heated as he remembered that he had fled a very bored, very mischievous, and very kinky John. He looked back towards the way he'd come. If he hurried maybe John would still be in the mood. Or maybe he'd get back and John would be asleep. That would be disappointing. _Dammit, I shouldn't have ran off_, he scolded himself, _I just panicked…I wonder who he wanted to put the cuffs on…_Sherlock swallowed hard and his feet started moving to retrace his steps.

"Be sure to say hi for me," Moriarty called.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but didn't look back. He instead picked up the pace and hurried back to the room. His thoughts were only on John and the huge apology he was going to have to give for running out like a crazy person. He flung the door open and slammed it behind him. He squinted into the dark room, trying to locate John.

The first thing he saw was a pair of legs, draped over his desk chair. He followed the legs up to a body that was void of clothes except for a bright red pair of boxers that seemed to glow in the dark. The body was leaned back on his bed, a hand clutching a pair of handcuffs dangling over the edge. Sherlock's eyes traveled up the arm that the hand was attached to. His eyes lingered on a small purple splotch that he'd made earlier. Finally, as his eyes adjusted to the light, his eyes found their way to John's.

"What took you so long?" John said in a low, whispery voice that sent shivers and shocks all through Sherlock's body.

"Ran into a psychopath," Sherlock muttered.

He dismissed all of that in favor of drinking in more of John's body. Damn, that boy was fit. He was all tan and muscle. Sherlock wanted to run his fingers along every inch of the boy's body and register it all. He wanted to bundle the information up and shove it in a trunk and stow it in the attic of his mind palace with boxes on top of it, so no one else could find it.

"Come here," John called out to him.

Sherlock's feet moved forward before his mind registered the words. John shifted backwards and lay out fully on Sherlock's bed. Sherlock sucked in a breath. He never realized how amazingly sexy it would be to see someone laid out on your bed waiting for you. He crawled onto the bed and up to John, who quickly pulled him in for a breath-taking kiss.

Sherlock's mind went to fluff once again as he tasted cinnamon on John's tongue. He vaguely heard something, but deemed it unimportantly, because nothing but John was important now. Something yanked on his wrist and he pulled off, blinking dazedly.

He looked down at his wrist to notice that half the handcuffs were attached to it. He blinked hard and shook his head, trying to get the fluff to fall out of his ears. He heard John laugh softly. His eyes languidly followed the short chain to the other half. He reached out and touched the wrist that the other half was wrapped around. The wrist jerked with the rest of the body.

"Damn, Sherlock!" John hissed, "You're fucking cold!"

"So warm me up," Sherlock suggested lazily.

He looked up to see John smirking at him. Then John flipped him and pressed his warm body down on the dazed boy. Sherlock blinked and John swooped down and kissed him. Sherlock was hardly aware of his body's animalistic instincts taking over. He was vaguely aware of hot pleasure surging through him, but he was so far above the world and his own body, that it hardly fazed him. Everything he felt was distant and unreal, as though he was looking at it from outside of his own body. He couldn't think anything and he could barely see.

It wasn't until sometime later, a warm body pressed to him and a blanket up over his shoulders, that he realized it was over. He could still feel the handcuffs, linking John and him together. He twisted his wrist and smiled at the way the metal rubbed against his skin. He became more and more aware of his surroundings with each blink. John's non-handcuffed arm was wrapped around him and one of his legs was pressed to Sherlock's. Sherlock snuggled his face closer to John, soaking in the warmth.

Then he sighed in frustration. He wished John would wake up. It was so boring without the other boy. Sherlock pressed himself a bit closer, feeling better as he did so. Irritation still gnawed at his stomach, but it seemed that that would have to be enough. Sherlock's eyes flew open as he realized something. He blinked several times, rerunning all the things that had happened over the past week. _Elated, out-of-this-world feeling, floating sensation, brain fizzing out, irritability when away….I think John is my new drug, _Sherlock's mind went into an all-stop as the thought popped up. He looked up at the sleeping blonde's face and could only think one thing: _oh_ shit.

* * *

**Little note: I was really pissed off as I wrote this, so it might be total shit, but I don't think so. Hope ya'll like it! Love you adorable little fuckers!**


	7. Chapter 7

John shook Sherlock awake (again). Sherlock scowled sleepily up at the boy, who was wearing his clothes from yesterday. He was also holding a small cup, probably with tea in it (because, really, what other drink is there?).

"You can't sleep all day, Sherlock," John said, "I brought you tea."

He held out the cup to Sherlock who sat up and took it, observing John as he sipped at it. John rubbed at his wrist and Sherlock observed a red ring around it. _Ah, ha! I knew last night actually happened! _Sherlock thought triumphantly. He smirked at John, who seemed to be getting the gist of Sherlock's thoughts as he blushed and coughed.

Sherlock placed the cup of tea gently on his desk and stood. John automatically took a step back to give him room. Sherlock stepped towards him again and John again backed up. This went on until John's back hit the door. John stared up at Sherlock with wide, dilated eyes. Sherlock put his hands on either side of John's head and leaned down close.

"You are quite the mystery, John Watson," Sherlock whispered, "And I think I'm going to solve you."

John swallowed as his cheeks blushed crimson.

"I think I would like that," he whispered back.

Sherlock smirked and closed the breath of space between them. He forced his mind to stay clear as he registered every move John made. John's hands timidly came to rest on his chest and his response to Sherlock's kissing was shy. Sherlock briefly wondered if John's face would be permanently dyed red. Sherlock pulled his lips away from John's and tried to sort through the abundance of senseless information in his brain.

_Last night he was forward, blunt, seductive. Now he's timid, hesitant and blushing. Why is there such a change? It is the same for the night before. He was calm, fierce and intense and then the next day he was blushing and shy. I don't understand…why is he different during the night?_

He opened his mouth to voice the question, but there was a knock at the door. John slipped out from under Sherlock's arm and hid behind him while Sherlock opened the door to a pretty brunette girl.

"Irene," Sherlock stated in a curt voice, "What do you want?"

He woman leapt forward and put her arms around Sherlock's neck.

"Sherlock! Why are you being so rude?" Irene asked in artificial sadness, "I just wanted to come and see the new toy!"

At this point, she ducked around Sherlock and popped up in front of John, who cowered slightly.

"Oooh! He's cute!" Irene exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "Look at how he blushes! What a pretty little pet you have Sherlock! Oh, and I see by the cuff marks you are keeping him tame!"

Irene giggled and reached a hand forward, presumably to touch John's face. Sherlock's hand snapped out and seized her wrist. He squeezed it tightly and glared into her eyes.

"You are not permitted to touch him," Sherlock said through clenched teeth.

"My, my, Sherlock," Irene tsked, "Quite possessive of your pets, aren't you?"

Sherlock said nothing and instead pulled on her wrist until she was in front of the open door. She looked at him with a bewildered face.

"Do not talk to him or touch him or contact him or even be near him," Sherlock commanded firmly, "If I wanted to talk to you, Irene, I would have."

With that, he promptly shoved her out the door and slammed it as she went flying. He turned back to John who looked rather fearful. Sherlock swooped down and kissed John on the cheek.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said softly, "She is very bad. You do not want to be around her. Trust me on that."

"I do," John said, "Trust you, I mean."

Sherlock looked down at the no longer fearful blue eyes.

"Good," he said, "Now where were we?"

John smiled softly and looked away sheepishly. Sherlock placed his hands under John's chin and lifted his head up to face him once again. Then he kissed him until the world exploded. That's what it felt like to Sherlock anyway.

* * *

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows observing John from his half of the room. John seemed to notice he was staring, as he turned around and winked at him. Sherlock filed that action away under "Daytime John". John came towards him and sat on his lap, his knees on either side of Sherlock. Sherlock blinked in shock. That wasn't compliant with Daytime John's normal behavior….he looked up at John who was blushing and looking rather sheepish. _That's compliant…_Sherlock thought briefly.

"Can I help you?" Sherlock asked in a low voice.

John looked at him and blushed harder.

"You just looked like you wanted to…" John coughed a little, "You were staring so intensely. I thought you wanted to…"

"I always want to with you," Sherlock said in reply.

John looked up and grinned, though his blush did deepen. Sherlock rapidly filed away John's actions as he reached his hands up to touch the other boy's face. John's eyes closed and he leaned into Sherlock's hand, a small content sigh escaping his lips. Sherlock noted that John's face was heated, but it cooled when Sherlock's hand touched it. That was most likely due to Sherlock's freezing cold hands. John seemed content to lay on Sherlock's hand forever and that made Sherlock smile. He pulled John into an embrace and silently stroked the other boy's hair as his new information rolled around in his head.

_During the day he's shy, hesitant, aims to please, blushes often, but occasionally he shows a rebellious, mischievous side. Though during the day it seems to last only a few minutes at a time. Unless someone is attacking me in some way, in which case he is defiant and quick to defend me. He can be blunt and snappy, but for the most part stays quiet. _

_But he's an entirely different person at night. Straight forward and rough…and the cuffs…_

Sherlock paused his thoughts to shiver at the memory.

_Clearly, his repressed "dark side" comes out at night. It's only at night that he allows himself to be-_

"_Sherlock? Sherlock! Hello? Are you-?"_

_An erotic, seductive and forceful person. He's fierce and mischievous at night whereas he suppresses it during the day. For some unknown reason-_

"_Sherlock! Are you ok? Sherlock!"_

_He thinks that he's allowed to be that way at night….hmm. Perhaps he bel-_

Suddenly, Sherlock was snapped from his thoughts as a hand snapped across his face. He blinked in surprise and stared at John in wonder. It hadn't been a hard slap, but it had been a slap none-the-less. John looked at him with concern in his eyes, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Why did you slap me?" Sherlock demanded.

"You were in some sort of trance!" John said, his voice rising defensively, "It was scaring me!"

Sherlock blinked again. He softened at John's hurt look and took the boy's hand in his own.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said softly, "I was just deep in my thoughts. I do that sometimes. I suppose I should have warned you."

John seemed to relax at his words. He laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder and puffed out a breath in relief.

"I thought you were some sort of epileptic or something," John said in a rather shaky voice, "I didn't know what to do."

"It's ok," Sherlock whispered, "You would've figured out something."

John let out a dry laugh, but didn't say anything. Sherlock pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him. Sherlock focused on John's breathing so that he didn't roam off into his mind palace again. It wasn't easy, but he managed to focus entirely on the other boy's breathing, which slowed and became deeper. Sherlock realized with a shock that John had fallen asleep on him.

He carefully maneuvered himself and John until they were laying on his bed, tangled up in each other. Sherlock felt as though he was blending into John. It was as though they were a painting and the artist had decided to blur the lines of definition between the two of them, causing them to become one massive Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. And it was right. It was all completely and totally right.

* * *

**Little note: I hope you liked it...Took me longer than I had planned on. Love you all!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Is this ok?" Sherlock asked as his fingers lingered over John's zipper.

John was blushing and gasping for breath, his lips bright red from the snogging they'd been up to. He nodded shakily, his whole body vibrating. During the night, Sherlock wouldn't be asking that. In fact, he'd be the one shaking in John's arms, not the other way around. But during the day, he was in charge and John was like a blushing virgin.

Sherlock pushed the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thoughts from his head as he undid John's pants. John stares down at Sherlock's nimble fingers, clutching Sherlock's shirt for dear life. John's prick damn-near sprang from his jeans as Sherlock slid the zipper down. Sherlock freed him the rest of the way and his hand gripped the newly-freed hot, hardness. John moaned and writhed against him, thrusting into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock smirked slightly, guessing that if he just held his hand there, John would continue thrusting and finish himself, without much effort from Sherlock at all.

But that wasn't how Sherlock liked to do things.

John moaned in need and buried his face in Sherlock's chest. Sherlock smirked as his hand moved back and forth slowly. John alternated between moans and whimpers as Sherlock sped up his pace and tightened his grip. Sherlock loved this part. This was the part where John came unglued in his hands and moaned out his name. He loved hearing that desperate, pleading way that John whimpered out his name. It sent shivers shooting all over his body.

The beautiful thing about John saying his name was that it was the one thing that John said that belonged to him. It was actually _his, _so when John said it…it was like John was expressing a part of Sherlock. Sherlock didn't completely understand it, but he loved it. He loved the way John said his name. Every time his name spilled over John's beautiful lips, Sherlock felt it, like vibrations in his heart.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh…" John muttered breathlessly.

Sherlock's smirk widened.

"That's it," Sherlock whispered, "Say it."

"Sherrrloock!" John moaned out.

Sherlock felt the shivers start in his arms and shoot up all along his body. He gasped slightly and faltered for a moment, but only a moment. Half a minute later, John was spilling out all over the floor and Sherlock had to hold him to keep him upright. Sherlock smiled widely, proud of his accomplishment. John was shaking in his arms, trying to come back to the real world. Sherlock looked down at the tousled golden locks and breathed out a content sigh. This was the ninth time he'd done this and he had to say, he was very pleased with how it was going. They'd done it every day since the day Sherlock told John he was a mystery and that he would solve him. God, Sherlock felt like he was in heaven.

John's breath was evening out and his hand began the lazy trail towards Sherlock's crotch. Sherlock sighed. He would've though after eight previous encounters that John would have learned. He placed his hand on John's, pressing it down firmly to his own stomach.

"Later," he whispered.

"Why do you always say that?" John whispered back.

"Because…" Sherlock trailed off, unsure of how to go about explaining.

The truth was, he liked it when John was night John…he liked the way John took control and roughly led Sherlock into blissful pleasure. How could he explain that to John? How could he say that he liked the rough John better? Well…that wasn't entirely true. Sherlock liked both Johns, but he liked them in different ways. He liked to please day John in a normal, vanilla way and he liked being pleased by night John in rough, passionate way. He loved the way day John moaned and writhed against him, but he also loved the way night John made him moan and writhe. He loved the gentle, sweet way day John complimented him and took care of him, but he also loved the rough, mischevious way night John coaxed him into doing dangerous or sexual things. It didn't really make any sense to himself, so how would it make sense to John? He wasn't even sure if John knew that there was two of him. He took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.

"Are you aware that you're two different people?" Sherlock questioned calmly.

John stiffened in his arms and his head snapped up. He looked panicked.

"WHAT?!" he shouted, his grip tightening on Sherlock's shirt once again.

"Let me rephrase," Sherlock amended, "Are you aware that you act like two different people?"

"What are you talking about?!" John demanded.

"During the day," Sherlock started, confused as to why John was so upset, "You act very sweet and shy. But at night you're more erotic and arrogant. Are you aware you are like that?"

John visibly relaxed and puffed out a sigh of relief, his hands loosening.

"Oh that," John muttered, "Yes, I'm aware…I thought you meant…never mind."

Sherlock frowned slightly.

"So do you know why you're like that?" Sherlock pressed.

John shivered slightly and dropped his hands from Sherlock's shirt. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked away from the taller boy.

"The dark gives me confidence," he mumbled.

"I don't understand," Sherlock admitted bitterly.

John looked up at him and smiled.

"Of course you don't," John said lightly, his eyes twinkling, "I feel like I'm not exactly normal."

Sherlock's frown deepened at that.

"So during the day, I try to keep to myself," John continued, "And I try to do what pleases others. So that people will like me and deem me normal. But when it's dark…it's like no one can really see me properly, so I'm free to be whatever I feel like being. I can be kinky or sexy or dangerous…"

John blushed and looked away again.

"But during the day," he said sadly, "I'm out in the light and on display. Everyone can see me and judge me. It just scares me what people think of me and what they might do if I'm judged poorly."

Sherlock relaxed and his frown turned into a warm smile. He hugged John close to him.

"Now, I understand," Sherlock said honestly.

He felt John smile against his chest and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was so glad that he knew now. It had been starting to get on his nerves.

"But what's this got to do with you not letting me…" John trailed off and cleared his throat, "_Please _you after you've done so to me?"

Sherlock went pink and cleared his throat loudly.

"I just like it when…" Sherlock frowned and looked away, "I just like it when you do it…when it's night…"

"Oh," John stated simply.

There was a pause and then:

"_Oh,_" John stated more clearly, "I see…"

Sherlock cursed his blushing face as John giggled a bit.

"Ok, I'll try to remember," John said in a highly amused voice.

"You're not mad?" Sherlock questioned.

"No, I just told you I like to be kinky at night," John whispered (apparently he didn't want anyone to hear?), "Obviously I don't mind if you like it like that more…actually, I'm rather glad."

John's head lifted up and Sherlock gulped. John's eyes were twinkling mischievously and his grin was wicked. This was night John. Sherlock felt himself go weak in the knees at the intense stare John was giving him. John laughed and buried his head back into Sherlock's chest.

"I think this is going to be wonderful," John said brightly.

Sherlock smiled softly down at the blonde.

"Me too," he answered truthfully.

* * *

**Little note: I'm sorry it took sooo long! I hope you guys like it! Love you all!**


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock stepped back and admired his work. He smirked proudly at the room. He'd been thinking about this for almost a week now. Now it was coming along quite nicely. The light filtered dimly through the burgundy curtains leaving the room barely lit. He'd moved the chairs and one of the desks near the closets to make a bit of room. The other desk now held several different…_items _laid out in neat rows for John's viewing. The sheets on Sherlock's bed were pulled down invitingly and he'd even added a bit of extra support to it. _This is it, _he thought, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He shot a quick text off to John:

_221B requires your presence…so does my bed. _ _SH_

Then he hurried over to stand, leaning back against the desk, waiting for John who was most assuredly running towards the room now. It was about five minutes until he heard the sound of someone skidding to a halt and falling over.

"Shit!" John shouted, his voice muffled by the door, "No, I'm fine, sorry. Sorry. I'm good. Thank you. I'm fine. Ok, stop, I'm fine, Jesus Christ! I said I'm fine!"

The door flew open and Sherlock beheld a panting John, whose pupils were blown wide. The blonde quickly stepped in the room and slammed the door shut. Sherlock pushed off the desk and went around John where the other desk was standing. He quickly slid it in front of the door (no locks T^T), aware that John was watching his every move. After the desk was secured in front of the door, he turned to John and took a few steps forward.

John immediately stepped towards him, rushing to meet him halfway. Sherlock smirked as the shorter boy leaned up for the kiss he assumed would come. But Sherlock merely took his hands and spun him around to face the other desk and the items he'd placed so delicately on it. he led John over and positioned him in front of the desk, letting go of his hands as he did so. John looked down in shock and his head whipped back up to Sherlock.

"Sh-Sherlock…Th-this is…" John sputtered as his face heated up.

Sherlock smiled widely at him. he placed his hands lightly on John's shoulder and leaned in until his lips were brushing against John's ear.

"Go on and choose then," Sherlock whispered

"Sherlock, it's…it's daylight…" John glanced around as though someone could be watching.

"Look at the window," Sherlock instructed lightly.

John's eyes flicked to the window and ran along the length of the curtain.

"Well, I guess it isn't daylight in here, is it?" John said in a low, husky voice.

Sherlock felt a thrill go through him. Finally, finally, he could have night John during the day. John's eyes flicked back to the desk and ran along the rows of toys and other items that Sherlock had laid out. John's fingers flew out and ran across the cool metal of the handcuffs. He gingerly picked them up and gave Sherlock a wicked grin.

"My, my, Sherlock," he said, swinging the cuffs around his finger, "These belong to me. I didn't know you were such a bad boy."

Sherlock felt his knees go weak and he swallowed thickly. John's other hand came up and gripped his hip.

"You like that?" he whispered in Sherlock's ear, "You like when I call you a bad boy?"

Sherlock was already shaking in anticipation for what might come next. John's fingers squeezed on his hip and he gasped.

"Or do you just like it because you know it means you'll be punished?" John whispered against Sherlock's cheek.

"Oh god," Sherlock breathed.

"You are so naughty," John said in a low voice.

There was a thunk sound as the cuffs were dropped back on the desk. Sherlock's eyes glanced to them before John's hot mouth pressed roughly against his own. Sherlock pressed back urgently, excited for what he'd planned. John's mouth trailed sloppily down his cheek and to his neck, as he turned and pressed Sherlock into the desk.

"God, you are sexy," John moaned into Sherlock's throat as he kissed it, "You are practically begging to be fucked. God, I think I will take you right here on this desk."

Sherlock frowned at that. He'd moved the sheets specifically for the purpose of having sex, but now John said he wanted to do it on the desk. Sherlock's eyebrows came together in confusion: there were things on the desk. Why would they have sex on the desk when there was a perfectly empty bed to have sex on? He was startled out of his thoughts when a hand patted his cheek.

"Sherlock, Jesus, you call me to come to you," John said tiredly, "Then you go off in your mind palace. I don't want to have sex with someone who's not all there."

He'd backed off slightly, his hands resting on Sherlock's hips.

"Sorry," Sherlock muttered, "Please continue."

"No," John said firmly, "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock looked away embarrassedly.

"It's just…I cleaned the bed…" he murmured.

There was a pause and then John was swinging Sherlock around and pushing him towards the bed.

"Well, then, since you made such an effort," John said, grinning wickedly, "We'll have to devirginize this bed."

Sherlock fell back onto the bed, his legs no longer having the ability to hold him up. There was a shuffling noise and Sherlock sat up on his elbows to see John retrieving something from the desk. It was the bottle. Sherlock internally screamed with excitement. John made his way back over and slid over Sherlock, straddling the pale boy's hips. John held up the bottle in front of Sherlock's face.

"Do you mean what I think you mean by this?" John questioned clearly.

Sherlock nodded shakily.

"Pick a safeword," John said, shifting off of Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock blinked in surprise.

"What? Why?" Sherlock sputtered, "I don't need one."

A hot hand gripped his jaw tightly and John leaned down close.

"Pick a safeword," he repeated, "One you can remember. If you say the word I'll stop. And you do need one, Sherlock, because I'm telling you those items you put on the desk have me pretty riled up."

Sherlock swallowed thickly and his mind buzzed as he tried to come up with a good word.

"Vatican cameos," he blurted.

"Thank god," John said, "I thought you were going to take forever to decide."

Sherlock didn't say anything as hands started undressing him. It felt oddly arousing to not be able to see John properly. He knew he was already completely erect and it kind of embarrassed him. He didn't know if John was or was anywhere near being ready. He swallowed again, suddenly as nervous as a virgin. John's hands stopped moving and the boy leaned over him and looked down at him with a hard look.

"Are you sure about this?" he questioned.

"Yes," Sherlock answered immediately.

"Sherlock, you're shaking," John pointed out.

Sherlock lifted up his hands and saw that he was indeed shaking.

"Just a bit nervous is all," Sherlock said, "I'm fine. Continue."

"Jesus, have you done this before?" John demanded.

"Yes," Sherlock muttered.

"You're acting like a virgin," John insisted.

"I haven't done it with someone I actually cared for, ok?" he shouted, turning his heated face away and crossing his arms.

"Oh, Sherlock…" John whispered, leaning down, "That is the best thing I've ever heard."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John kissed his cheek gently.

"I'm ready, ok?" Sherlock said, "Hurry up!"

John chuckled and pushed himself up.

"You sound so needy," John said in his low voice, "God, it's turning me on. Maybe I'll just wait until you beg for it."

John sat back slightly and raised his eyebrows, smirking slightly. Sherlock felt weak in the stomach and impossibly hard.

"P-please," he muttered.

"Oh, I think you can do better than that," John insisted.

"P-please, John…I-I n-need you," Sherlock begged breathlessly, all nervousness forgotten.

"That's more like it," John growled.

His hands hurriedly went back to work on Sherlock's clothes, quickly discarding them over the edge of the bed. Sherlock automatically lifted his legs to give John access. John groaned, laying his head against Sherlock's bare thigh.

"God, you're so sexy like this," John moaned, "I can't even describe how incredible you look, all willing and ready, like a…like a…"

"Like a whore," Sherlock supplied.

John's eyes flicked to Sherlock's and he shook his head.

"I can't call you that," John whispered, "Whores are dirty. You're clean and pure. Damn, I feel bad for tainting you with my darkness."

Sherlock had to laugh at that. He relaxed against the bed and put his hands over his face.

"I'm far from pure, John," he muttered.

John crawled up and lay next to Sherlock, pulling him close to his body.

"I don't care," John whispered, "You're pure to me."

Sherlock turned slightly and looked into John's earnest blue eyes. He felt a flutter in his stomach and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. Sherlock pressed an urgent kiss to John's mouth.

"Can we have anal sex now?" he questioned in the same urgent manner as the kiss.

John made a hissing noise.

"As you wish," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

* * *

**Little note: Yeah, I don't know about this chapter. It came out a little weird to me...Hmm. Can't decide if I like it or not. Anyway, hope you all like it!**


End file.
